


the way that you flip your hair

by achilleees



Series: jack/parse tumblr prompts [13]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Communication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Future Fic, Insecurity, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10102046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achilleees/pseuds/achilleees
Summary: “And my running observation is that Parse can’t take a compliment from you without blowing it off. Could be a coincidence, but no evidence to the contrary since I started paying attention,” Ransom said.“What?” Jack said, right as Kent walked back in the room.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: _if this isn't a specific enough prompt or you're not interested, just let me know but I'd love to read a jackparse of kent having a praise kink but not daddy kink? Like I just think he'd really like to be treated softly especially by Jack and if it's taking into consideration canon (which you obviously don't have to considering the way it's been...) then that'd mean even more you know. Idk if I explained this right but basically jp being soft & in love w each other is my prompt!_
> 
> i went a bit angstier than the prompt indicated but hopefully i pulled it back by the end.
> 
> this is a spiritual successor to my [other fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7869736) about jack assuaging kent’s insecurities about their relationship, because jackparse fans are martyrs of a hopeless cause and also fuck canon.

 

The Bruins/Habs game was long over and even the cutthroat unofficial Mario Kart tournament was winding down by the time Jack heard the familiar purr of Parse’s Benz outside. The other guys didn’t seem to notice until they heard the key jiggling in the lock.

“Broo,” said Ransom when Kent walked in the door.

“Hey bro hey,” said Holster.

“Hey,” said Kent, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door. He looked around, expression only going light and easy when he saw Bitty wasn’t there. Kent was never going to get over that, and Jack didn’t know what to say to help him through. 

This hardly seemed like the time to care, and he had a hard time mustering any desire to ruffle feathers with the way Kent was smiling and slapping hands with Ransom and Holster. 

“That deke in the second,” Ransom said admiringly, turning in his seat to face Kent. 

“Too dirty,” Holster agreed, toasting Kent with his beer bottle.

“Thanks,” Kent said, grinning. “Glad you liked.”

“Oh yeah, hella,” said Ransom. “And that face-off percentage? Yikes, I daresay.”

“Thanks?” Kent said again, a little perplexed.

“And, like, stop me if this gets weird, but you wear the hell out of that sweater,” Holster said, in that same admiring tone.

“… Thanks,” Kent said, but his eyes flicked over to Jack.  _ Are your d-men hitting on me _ ? he was clearly asking.

Jack shrugged back to demonstrate that yes, they definitely were, and no, he had no idea why. Goddamn weirdos. “You do look good in black and yellow,” he said.

“Nah,” said Kent, reaching over to steal his water bottle and take a few swallows. “I got used to the vampire look in Vegas, but corpse  _ plus _ jaundice is too much for my complexion to handle. I scare small children.”

“Not even!” Holster said. “Edward Cullen wishes, man.”

Kent laughed.

“Bro, tell your man he works the sweater,” Ransom said to Jack.

“I just did,” Jack said. “And Kent looks good in everything, so…”

“Yeah, say that once you see me in paisley,” said Kent, standing up and stretching. “What’d you have for dinner?”

“Do you actually have paisley clothes?” Holster asked, genuinely curious.

“That chicken mushroom thing and maple Brussels sprouts,” Jack said.

“Oh, nice,” Kent said. “Bee are bee.” He headed for the kitchen.

“Get extra!” Holster said. As soon as Kent vanished into the kitchen, he and Ransom bent their heads together and began whispering furiously.

Jack narrowed his eyes at them. “You’re being weird,” he said. “Explain.”

Ransom and Holster pulled apart, and Ransom darted a glance towards the kitchen before saying in a whisper, “So I’m doing my psychiatry clinic and they’re trying to teach me to notice things more.”

“Things?” 

“You know, things,” Ransom said, waving both hands. “Personality quirks, little tics, behavioral oddities. Things.”

“Like you two being enormous weirdos?” Jack said. “That kind of thing?”

Ransom didn’t grace that with a response, though his world-weary expression indicated that this was through extreme effort on his part. “And my running observation is that Parse can’t take a compliment from you without blowing it off. Could be a coincidence, but no evidence to the contrary since I started paying attention.”

“What?” Jack said, right as Kent walked back in the room with a big bowl of food and a spoon poking out of his mouth.

He swept his gaze around at all of them. If Jack looked as guilty as Ransom and Holster did, no wonder Kent narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “The fuck?” he said, pulling the spoon from his mouth. 

“Nothing, seriously,” Jack said. 

“We’re being fangirls,” Holster blurted.

“Oh,” Kent said, expression clearing, and he sat down next to Jack on the couch, nudging their knees together. “You trying to devise ways to convince me to introduce you to Bergy again? Because I’m serious, I’m not doing it until I’m positive you’re not gonna hump his leg or something.”

“I get that, but it’s just, like, so cold,” Ransom said, looking sad.

Jack hated lying to Kent, but he wasn’t ready to bring up the truth until he understood what the hell they were talking about. Because… seriously, what the hell were they talking about.

Of all people, Kent Parson was quite comfortable taking compliments. On a good day he could be considered assured, on a bad day he was arrogant, but Kent had always been quite aware of his hockey talent, his attractiveness, the way he could charm the pants off anyone he met with seemingly no effort.

Jack had been as susceptible to his charms as anyone, and Kent knew it, he had always known it. There was a particular smirk he used to wear when he looked up and caught Jack watching him across the locker room… 

The first time Kent had met Jack’s dad, he had shaken his hand, dimpled up at him, and said, ‘Bad Kent doesn’t really have the same ring to it, does it?’ The kid was not lacking for confidence.

But now that Ransom had gotten in his head, Jack couldn’t help but watch Kent and wonder.

  
  


After Ransom and Holster had left, Jack came up behind Kent while he was rinsing his dishes and wrapped his arms around him. He rested his chin on top of Kent’s head, though he had to stretch a little to do it.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Kent grumbled, but Jack could see the reflection of his smile in the kitchen window.

“Kit okay at your place?” Jack murmured, nuzzling his hair.

“Yeah, I played with her for a bit when I was there to change after the game, and I’ll stop by before practice tomorrow,” Kent said.

“You know, if you ever felt like coming down before changing out of the suit, I would be okay with that,” Jack said, and he had never been great at flirting but stating abject facts was right in his wheelhouse.

“Oh yeah?” Kent said, sounding pleased.

“Definitely,” Jack said. “You look amazing in a suit.”

“Aw, Zimmerface thinks I’m pretty,” Kent cooed, and reached behind himself to pat Jack on the hip.

Normally Jack would have let him get away with the sidestep, but this time… “I do,” he said, running his hands up and down Kent’s arms. “I think you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, Parse.”

He could feel the way Kent tensed just the slightest bit, and it brought a lump to his throat. Part of him wanted to blame Ransom, but Ransom hadn’t caused this problem. He’d just pointed it out.

“Are you trying to sweet-talk me so I’ll let your friends slobber all over Bergy?” Kent said. “I’m telling you, you need to set boundaries with these children or they’ll walk all over you.”

“Parse,” Jack said.

“Que?” Kent said, and the ability to lie convincingly wasn’t new - Jack couldn’t tell in the slightest if the innocence was an act or if he really didn’t know what Jack was getting at.

But now that Jack had started thinking about it, he couldn’t stop. With this new perspective in mind, he could look back on every compliment he could remember paying Kent in the recent past, and every response, and the trend was painfully clear.

_ I really like that shirt on you _ got back a  _ You don’t think it makes my ass look fat _ ?

_ I didn’t know you were so good at pub trivia  _ got  _ Ah yes, one of my useless and only talents _ .

_ Your conditioning is insane _ got  _ Says the hockey-bot himself _ .

Jesus, even a  _ Nice haircut _ got an eyelash-bat and an  _ Oh stop, you’ll make me blush _ .

And he hadn’t even noticed.

Worst boyfriend ever award here.

“Nothing,” Jack said. 

  
  


His half-baked plan was to overload Kent with so many compliments that he couldn’t help but accept some in the onslaught. In retrospect, the plan sucked, which was probably why Kent noticed within about two minutes of implementation.

“You’re so good at this,” Jack murmured, stroking Kent’s soft hair while he mouthed at Jack’s cock through his briefs. 

Kent pulled up his head and shot Jack a look.

“What?” Jack said.

“You’re being weird,” Kent said.

_ No,  _ you’re _ being weird _ probably wasn’t a helpful response, Jack reflected, just in time to bite it back. He maintained though, this had never been a problem before - 

Before.

“Am I?” he said instead.

“You’re not usually this…” Kent fumbled for the words. “Mushy.”

“If you don’t like it, I can stop,” Jack said, faintly embarrassed.

Kent pursed his lips. “That’s not - I just, why? What brought that on?”

“I can stop,” Jack said again.

“I just want to know why,” Kent repeated stubbornly.

Jack sighed, sitting up fully. If this was going to be a Conversation with a capital C (he imagined it with the hashtag, a holdover from his relationship with Bitty that he couldn’t quite shake), he wanted to be on equal footing for it. “Ransom mentioned -”

“Ah,” Kent said, sitting back on his feet, his face going blank.

“That you have a tendency to brush off compliments from me,” Jack said. “Like you’re not comfortable with them.” He looked down at his hands, unable to meet Kent’s eyes. “If it’s something I did to make you feel that way, I’m sorry.”

Kent didn’t immediately refute it, and Jack felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Fuck.

Finally, Kent cleared his throat. “You can imagine why I’d have trouble being vulnerable around you, after everything we’ve been through,” he said roughly.

Jack flinched.

“I just…” Kent looked pained to be saying this, but he didn’t censor himself, and Jack had to appreciate that as much as it hurt to hear. “Our relationship goes smoother if neither of us acknowledges that I’m your equal.”

The phrasing was inelegant and it would have been easy to misinterpret, but Jack thought he understood what Kent meant. 

The Draft, the idea of Kent going first, how much that had ruined Jack. Every time they had seen each other over Jack’s years at Samwell and all the ways they had shoved in Jack’s face everything he could have had, all the accolades Kent had earned through blood and sweat and toil and how easily they could have been shared. How much Kent had come to embody all the ways Jack had failed.

“I guess I’m not used to being good enough for you,” Kent said, voice raw, eyes shiny. “It’s hard for me to know how to respond.”

All those years, Jack had been looking past Kent, looking through him, looking at him only to see the twisted version of himself reflected back. No wonder Kent had trouble believing Jack was finally seeing him for himself.

“Shit,” Jack said, and in one sudden move he surged forward and pinned Kent to the bed underneath himself. 

“Whoa!” Kent said, as Jack curled both hands around his jaw and tilted his face up to force their eyes to meet.

“If I spend our relationship convincing you how much I value you, everything you are, what you mean to me - if I spend every day of the rest of my life telling you over and over how much I adore you, would that start to make up for all the ways I’ve done you wrong?” Jack said, his voice just as hoarse as Kent’s.

Kent’s eyes welled up immediately, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “Holy shit, Jack,” he whispered.

His relationship with Bitty had taught him so many things, but more than anything else, it had taught him -

If you loved someone, if you really, truly loved someone, then you had to let them know. Bitty had deserved it from Jack then, and Kent deserved it now.

“You deserved to go first, because you’re better than me at hockey,” Jack said, and he aligned their bodies together chest to chest and hip to hip, settling in, because he was in this conversation for the long haul. “I don’t know if you always were or if you always will be, but you are now, and you’d have to be in denial not to see it.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Kent said, but his voice quavered.

“You deserve to be complimented because you’re the prettiest, wittiest, most charming brat I’ve ever met in my entire life and every moment I spend with you reinforces it,” Jack said. “Parse, you drive me crazy.”

There wasn’t a single thing about Kent that didn’t make him react in some way. He didn’t love everything about Kent - there was a lot not to love - but god, he  _ felt _ .

Kent knuckled ineffectually at his eyes, trying in vain to rub away the tears that gathered and spilled over. “Jack…”

“You’re so good for me, Kenny,” Jack whispered. “You’re not always good to me, and you’re not always  _ good _ , but that doesn’t mean you’re not everything I need.”

“Jesus, fucking rom-com here,” Kent said, and this time Jack let him get away with the sidestep, smiling fondly at him and leaning in to kiss him soft and slow and gentle. 

“I’ll try not to get this mushy too often,” he murmured, wiping away Kent’s tears with his thumbs. “I just… if you didn’t know this, and I could have been telling you all along, I’d never forgive myself.”

Kent touched Jack’s cheek, looking up at him with those wide watery eyes that made Jack want to wrap him up in his arms and never let him go. “You can tell me, but I can’t promise I’ll always be ready to listen,” he said. “It’s kind of a lot to take in.”

“I get that,” Jack said, because frontloading it all on the first day would be pretty overwhelming. “I’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” Kent said, with that small private smile he got sometimes, when the life they had ahead of them seemed to sprawl out open and endless before him. 

They kissed again, and by some unspoken mutual agreement curled up together after, letting things settle in naturally. Kent always got exhausted after having feelings, the capital F hashtag kind, which Jack couldn’t help but think was adorable.

“But, uh, actually,” Kent said right as Jack was drifting off, “if you wanted to tell me how good I look in a suit more often, feel free. I do look damn good in a suit.”

Jack chuckled. “Fuck yeah you do,” he said, kissing Kent’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you that every day, baby.”

“I’ma hold you to that,” Kent said drowsily. 

“You won’t have to,” Jack said, and he meant it.

  
  


Jack covered his face from the spray of sand kicked up when Kent leapt up for the spike, but he lowered his hand in time to see the ball hit the sand just ahead of Holster’s desperate dive.

“Aaand that’s game,” Kent said, miming the Usain Bolt pose.

“Nice,” said Jack, slapping his hand.

“Break for rehydration?” said Lardo after her own round of celebratory fist bumps.

“Def,” Kent said. He led the way to their towels, dropping to his knees in front of the cooler and pulling out bottles of water for him and Jack and beer for everyone else.

Not for the first time, Jack had to appreciate dating a fellow pro hockey player. As it turned out, committing to his diet was a lot easier when there weren’t fresh-baked cookies and pies in his house all the time.

Shitty laughed at Holster’s sulk. “You really think we were going to win against them?”

“I mean, I didn’t expect Jack to be beast at fucking beach volleyball, yes,” Holster said. “I guess superhuman athleticism and freakish competitiveness translates.”

“Ya think?” Shitty said, shaking his head and accepting the beer Kent passed him.

“In our defense, Parse could have informed us ahead of time that he’s apparently some kind of mad volleyball wizard,” Ransom pointed out.

“I lived in Vegas for how long?” Kent said. “Year-round summer ringing any bells?”

“But no beaches!” Holster said. “Trust me bro, we considered that.”

“Oh yeah, fair,” Kent said. “Mosh has a court in his backyard, though, we got really into it. Bracket tournaments. There was serious money wagered.”

“Fucking ringer,” Holster muttered, flipping him off.

Jack smiled. “You are unfairly good at that,” he said, hooking his ankle over Kent’s.

He could see Ransom’s face turn to them in his peripheral vision, and he watched his expression from the corner of his eye when Kent just smiled back and said, “Thanks,” - the flash of confusion, furrowing before shifting into a pout. Ransom hated being proven wrong.

Jack curled his hand around the back of Kent’s neck and pulled him closer, murmuring in his ear, “S’taking everything I have in me not to kiss you right now. You look amazing like this.”

He meant it, of course, because he defied anyone not to do a double-take at the All-American demigod that was Kent Parson in the early fall, still all bulked out from his off-season weight training, summer sun lending him bleached streaks in his hair and a glowing bronze on his skin. But he said it more for Ransom’s benefit, and by proxy his own - for the validation of someone else witnessing the way Kent preened at the praise, turning his shy smile to Jack, angling to him like a flower to the sun.

“Thanks,” Kent said softly, and Jack risked pressing a quick, glancing kiss to his temple.

When he looked up again, Ransom was smiling, and he silently toasted him with his beer bottle. Jack just smiled back.

Every day for the rest of his life. He meant it.


End file.
